A Family of His Own
by Celestia0909
Summary: When he was a boy, while growing up, the only thing he had ever wanted was a family that loved him. When he'd met Ron, Hagrid and Hermione, they had become his own little family, and yet he knew that they each had their own ones too. When he had met the Weasley's, his longing for a family of his own grew tenfold and he spent countless nights hoping for one.


**A Family of His Own**

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[A/N at the end]

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The sun bore down oppressively as droplets of sweat trickled down Harry's neck. He had heard on the radio over breakfast that it was going to be the hottest summer day in British history, and as a gust of hot air blew dead grass around his ankles, he wouldn't be surprised if they were right.

In the distance, he could hear Mrs Weasley shouting loudly to whoever her new victim was and he was glad that he had been banished to the garden. Harry checked his watch and ruffled his hair nervously; it hadn't quite settled in yet that in less than three hours, his ex-girlfriend was going to marry one of his closest friends.

There was once a time when Harry had thought that Ginny Weasley was going to be the girl that he would settle down with. He had thought that they would marry, have children, and lead happy lives travelling the world, playing Quidditch, and putting bad people in jail. But where Harry had wanted a quiet life where things could be easygoing, Ginny had wanted a life of adventure. And quite frankly, Harry had had enough adventure for a lifetime. So when Ginny and Luna, there had been no hint of jealousy or sadness at the news. It had been a shock, and yet it made perfect sense.

A loud boom erupted from the house, and Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket instinctively. He pointed it towards the house and his heart raced as he waited for the screams or shouts of pain; but they never came. Instead, Mrs Weasley opened the back door to the Burrow, apron tied tightly around her waist, and pointed for someone to get out. Harry couldn't see any signs of smoke or damage to the Burrow and there was no blood, or injuries on Mrs Weasley, so he pocketed his wand and forced his frantically beating heart to slow down.

Despite the war having ended three years ago, there were still defensive behaviours that he couldn't shake. Whenever he heard loud noises or saw sudden movements, it seemed like there was a switch in his brain that flicked on and would warn him that danger was near. His instinctive response would be to pull his wand out and point it in whatever direction danger would come from. Sometimes, that would be the only response, but other times it would be worse.

There were times when he would see something, or hear something that would trigger certain memories to surface in his mind, and it would be like he was reliving the terror that had been his life for almost a year. Even though his scar hadn't hurt for a year, he could swear that it did and Voldemort's voice would echo in the recesses of his mind, taunting and mocking him for the damage that he had gone through.

Harry had been so lost in thought that he hadn't realised the door to the Burrow had closed, Mrs Weasley had disappeared, and that Hermione was walking towards him. A soft cornflower blue dress hung loosely on her and Harry smiled as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Her warm brown eyes, the colour of chocolate truffles, twinkled as she wrapped her arms around him and planted her lips on his.

He didn't know how long they were locked together in a passionate embrace, but there was an altogether different type of heat that coursed through him as they kissed. Eventually, too soon in Harry's opinion, Hermione pulled away and smiled at him. Dark freckles dotted her tanned skin and he was reminded of toffee as she pulled her strap up her shoulder.

"What are you doing out here?" Harry asked as she pulled away from his arms and took her wand out of a small beaded bag around her wrist.

"Apparently I was making a mess of the wedding favours so Molly's forced me to help you set up the tent and tables," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at the mention of Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley had told him to call her Molly, but there was something that felt wrong about calling her that. It just didn't feel natural and she would _always_ be Mrs Weasley to him. "By the looks of it though, she clearly has too much faith in you."

Harry followed Hermione's gaze as she looked out at the piles of folded wooden tables and chairs strewn on the dry grass. The tent, which Harry was supposed to have put up by now, was still in its' crate; he hadn't even gotten far enough to get it _out_ of its' box.

"Look, to be fair, it's _really_ hot out here," Harry explained as he wiped his brow. Truth be told, he had simply been too lazy to actually do anything, and the heat certainly didn't help. "And I read on the box that it takes at least two people to put it up."

"You could've at least set the tables and chairs up, it doesn't take _that_ long to set them up. You know, all you've got to do is do one set, and the rest follow," she huffs as she ties her hair into a bushy ponytail. He didn't know that actually, but he wished he did. Perhaps he could have saved himself from his girlfriend's nagging. If there was one thing Hermione was good at, it was her talent at nagging; not that he minded _too_ much, it was one of the things he loved about her after all.

"How do I know that you're not just making that up to make me feel bad?"

"It says it on the box," she says dryly as she points a nude painted nail at the opened crate. Lo and behold, on the side, in the faintest black writing, it did indeed say that a special feature of the set was the fact that had some sort of complicated duplication feature on it.

"Well, you know how rotten my eyesight is. You can't have seriously expected me to _see_ that." Harry knew he was pulling at straws, but he _liked_ riling her up like this.

"You're totally hopeless, honestly I don't know _how_ you managed to get rid of Voldemort," she mocked as she shook her head in disappointment. The corners of her lips twitched as she fought to keep a smile off her face.

He was glad that they could joke about this sort of thing these days. There was a time when even the mere mention or implication of that time in their lives had made them tense and awkward. It had gotten to the point where they pretended the entire thing had never happened. When people asked them about their experiences, they would recite their generic statements about how relieved they were to have vanquished the threat, and how excited they were to live their lives; without ever really meaning the words.

It had taken years of trial and error before he and his best friends had found a way to move past their trauma and had gone a step further by being able to joke about it. And yet, he and Ron still had nightmares, and Hermione would freeze when she was exposed to certain sights, smells, and sounds.

He had told her when they'd first started dating that she was his person, and he would be hers. When he woke up from his nightmares, _she_ would be there waiting to hold him close without a word. And when _she_ froze up, he would be there to hold her hand, or wrap his arms around her, and remind her that she was there with him.

Even when they were nothing more than friends to one another, she had always been a source of comfort and strength for him. She had always been someone he could go to for reassurance and security, and now she was someone he could go to simply because he wanted to him. Because he loved her more than he'd loved anyone else before.

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry's eyes followed the movement of her hands as they softly cradled her stomach. In three months, Hermione wouldn't be the only person he'd love more than anyone else, she'd have to share that with the newest addition to their growing family.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked as she furrowed her eyebrows and rubbed the top of her stomach through her dress.

"He moves a lot," she said softly as she grabbed Harry's hand and placed it where she had been rubbing her stomach. For a few moments, nothing happened and Harry looked at Hermione questioningly. As he drew his hand away, he felt it. The slightest kick, and then another. "See what I mean?"

"Does it hurt?" Harry already knew it didn't, but he had to make sure. He hated the idea of anyone he loved feeling pain; he'd caused enough pain already.

"No."

"Would you tell me if it did though?" He asked.

"No," Hermione sighed as she smiled at him.

"Figured as much," Harry replied. And despite the fear that perhaps this pregnancy could be causing her pain, he couldn't even begin to mask his excitement at finally having a family of his own.

When he was a boy, while growing up, the only thing he had ever wanted was a family that loved him. When he'd met Ron, Hagrid and Hermione, they had become his own little family, and yet he knew that they each had their own ones too. When he had met the Weasley's, his longing for a family of his own grew tenfold and he spent countless nights hoping for one.

But now, as Hermione waved her wand, set the tables and chairs up, and arranged them around the grass with her pregnant belly under her dress, Harry realised that he would never want for a family again. Because now he had one, his very own family for him to be a part of and to call his own.

"Are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there?" Hermione yelled as a chair whizzed in front of his eyes and almost clipped his nose.

"Alright, alright!"

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 **Author's Note**

Word Count: 1709

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 **Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

Game/Round: 1

Team/Position: Seeker

Task: Write a pairing you've never written before

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I hope you all enjoyed this story x

Please don't forget to leave a short (or long) review.

I love love love reading them!

Until next time, Andy x


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